


Elumira Aramar's No Good Very Bad Day

by itsfio



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Father Death, Gen, Parental Death, also idk if this is actually a GRAPHIC depiction of violence but i wanted to play it safe sooo, jsut. a whole lot of trauma, mother death, other characters are mentioned but these are the ones actually Present, roran is also there but hes not mentioned cause hes just minding his business or somethin, vaguely implied self harm but it doesnt actually happen. its just a concern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsfio/pseuds/itsfio
Summary: On the way to Swiberg, Elumira has a lot to think about.





	1. Chapter 1

"Next we meet, it will be the end of the world."

The cultist, Meredith's, words hang heavy over her head. When she had heard them, she thought it was bluffing. A scare tactic, something to get the five of them off her back. She hadn't realized that it was actually a sword of Damocles, and when it swung, it swung hard.

The steady rhythm of the family mare's walking is all that keeps her anchored to the present, and it's a loose thing, the moment she starts thinking about it, about everything, again, she'll be lost. She stares ahead of her, her eyes, still tinted red from her tears, are void of anything but the sorrowful hurt that bubbles inside her. Disgusting and warm like boiling sewer water. Her ear twitches.

She spots a sizeable rock on the path ahead of her, and goes to move the reins, steering the horse away from it. When she does, she sees her hands. They're still a sickening shade of red, she looks down further and sees that it covers her arms and her chest as well, some of it is even in her hair. 

It's blood, of course. Blood had never bothered her before, it was just a part of life in Antabore. 

'Not that Antabore exists anymore.'

She cringes, her ears have been droopy for hours now, and they dip a little harder now. Still, the knowledge that she blood she's covered in is her fathers is the most disgusting thing. It's still warm, but it's slowly beginning to dry and stick to her. She feels something bubble up her throat, and at first she thinks she's going to throw up, but she finds herself swallowing down another cry instead. She sniffles as quietly as she can manage and tries to ground herself but to no success. She feels so hollow now.

Mahlez had told her that if anyone he knew could stop this, it was her. He may well have been right, but finding the motivation to was no easy task. Was it really worth it to save a world that didn't have her father in it? From day one, he had been the only one that really campaigned for her, that always had her back.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! I DONT KNOW BUT I JUST KNOW IT IS!"

It's Orenar's turn to torment her, it seems. But he's right. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't felt weird about just leaving them there at the springs, he was capable, yes, he was the best fighter she'd ever known, the best fighter she would ever know, but he was mortal. Horrifyingly so.

She clears her throat, keeping down another cry, it's getting harder. She thinks she hears Yanra murmuring behind her, and Quinn telling him to shut up, but she can't focus on it. All she can focus on is the past couple hours. 

Her father had been heavy in her arms. He'd held her so many times, he'd held her earlier that day, but she hadn't been the one to hold him before... Her fists tighten around the reins without her meaning to, she can feel the crunch of his hardening blood.

'Not just his.'

She shudders. She and her mom had never gotten along, she knew she didn't even love her. But she was still her mother, that's not nothing. And she had sliced into her like she was an animal, she hadn't been the one to... To kill her, thankfully, but that isn't much comfort. She thinks back to Mahlez calling out to her, pleading with her to stop. The next thing she knew, she was unconscious. Her mother was a cold, distant person, and she had no love for Elumira, but she'd never beat her, or any of Lural's children. 

She manages to get the memory under control for a second, only to be assaulted by one more, Adda.

She'd held her hand as she died, a small, shaking thing. The memory is tinged with regret. she should have said something, anything, even a hello. Nut she had hid from her, hid from the discomfort. If she had said something, maybe she'd still be alive. Maybe they could be friends again. But that was a terrible lie, there was nothing to be done.

It all piles up, one after the other after the other. She finds herself fixated on the memory of her fathers face when she had turned him over. She'd held that face, hoping, begging, pleading with the universe that this is a sick joke. But the punchline wouldn't come, she would look up at Meredith, fear and terror and hurt and rage in her eyes as she stood mockingly above her.

"Next we meet, it will be the end of the world."

"E-Elumira?"

She blinks, caught off guard by the small voice, and she turns to the source. It's Calian, of course, next to her on his own horse. He's levelling her with a look of dread and concern. She stares at him.

"Are you... Well..." He seems to realize that the answer to 'are you ok' is the biggest no in the history of no's, and cuts himself off. "Do you... Want to talk about it? It might help, get it off your chest?"

It won't, she knows that much. She's going to carry this for the rest of her life, and even after that.

She keeps staring at him, for a moment, before breaking his gaze and looking back to the path ahead. Her cheeks are warm and wet, she hadn't realized she'd started crying, but she makes no move to wipe her tears away. Better that than the blood of her parents and lost love.

"There's... There's nothing to talk about. You saw it all."

He had seen too much, even. He'd comforted her when they found his body, or tried to, anyway. He was a sweet kid, too sweet. This world was going to kill him, one way or another, and he wasn't going to deserve it. It never happens to the deserving. It's always the good ones that get slaughtered, and those left behind pick of the pieces, those that should have died pick up the pieces...

Calian seems troubled, even more so than he already was. He seems like he wants to say something, but doesn't know how. Eventually, he figures it out, in a rushed sentence he seems desperate to get out, like if he doesn't, it'll spell disaster.

"Don't- don't do anything, um... Drastic, ok?"

'Drastic...'

She knows what he means. She knows she can't make that promise.

After a long pause, she nods gently and speaks. 

"...Yeah, ok." she's lying to him. Disgusting, horrible. She should have died. Gods, oh Gods, it should have been her...

Calian seems to know, in his heart of hearts, that she isn't as sure about that as she seems. But he sighs quietly.

"Alright. I'm, uh, y'know. I'm here for you."

She glances at him again, and nods.

"Thank you."

Next time, it'll be someone who deserves it.


	2. Chapter 2

They're almost to Swiberg, but after so many hours straight of travel, everyone is exhausted and it's dark out. So they stop and make a little camp. Elumira takes first watch.

The night air is cool as it blows, and she sits in front of the small fire they'd made. It was a slapdash thing, just for light, and poorly made, but Elumira didn't have it in her to make a good one right now. She wasn't sure she had much of anything in her anymore.

She lets a sigh push it's way out of her. They'd been out of Antabore for at least a day now, and yet the town is the only thing that holds her attention recently. That and her father. She finds herself thinking of him a lot, in the silence. Thinking about earlier in the day before it happened... It'd been good to see him, very good. She'd missed him terribly. She'd given him the same sort of awkward hello she always did... She can only hope he knew that she was truly happy to see him, she thinks he was, he usually knew these things, but the thought gnaws away at her, and she has to force her mind elsewhere before it goes darker places.

She turns her head to look at the group behind her, all asleep, it seems. Turning her head back to look out in front of her, she finds herself thinking of the Mayor Antioch. They hadn't been close, but she and Lural were friends, so she saw her now and again growing up. Now she was gone, too. And she had bled that terrible golden blood, glowing in the dark. 

She'd died alone, her mind supplies. She and the group had just left her there, in her desperation to get to her father she hadn't even stopped to check on her... Not that there was any chance she was surviving that though, she knew what a fatal wound looked like. And she's seen so many as of late.

She brings her hands to cover her face, taking a deep breath to sooth the burn in her throat. She couldn't cry again, she couldn't cry again. She was supposed to be the strong one, she could take it. She could take neglect and mistreatment and the death of so many people she knew and cared for. She could take it all. She was strong. And she was crying again.

It felt like there was no end to the tears lately, but she'd gotten very good at crying in a way that didn't draw attention. A few tears would sneak their way out, and she'd clear her throat, and that'd be the end of it. No one had to know. Tonight was a rough bout though, she moves her hands to cover her mouth instead of her eyes, muffling the pathetic whimpers that force their way out.

Images of her father's and Adda's body flood her mind, joined by Mayor Antioch's injuries, the town in ruin, that thing her mother turned into... She remembers the feeling of getting punched by her own brother. If her father were still alive he might've said she took it like a champ.

But he's not. But he's not. But he never will be again.

She's reaching for the knife before she realizes it, one of her smaller knives, not made for combat, and when she does it feels like she's not in control of her body, like her arms are being moved by an outside force, but she knows all too well that it's the machinations of a grief addled body left alone.

She sees the knife coming her way and closes her eyes, flinching. looks like she's going to have to disappoint Calian.

Except the pain doesn't come, she opens her eyes and looks down at herself. She drops the knight and pats her neck, it's fine. She looks at her arms, no cuts. but then what- she stops. moves her head again, and knows she's not imagining it. Her head feels much lighter.

She brings her hand up to pat around the base of her head, and then looks down behind her, confirming it. Her long, long mess of dark hair, cut off behind her. It's a lot of hair.

She feels a strange sense of calm smooth over her. She doesn't feel good, but she does feel better. Like a little weight has been lifted, metaphorically as well as literally. She doesn't smile, but she wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then another, then another. 

She turns back around, looking at the fire now. She's going to carry this forever, but maybe, at least for now, she can keep moving forward. She can help do a little good, make what's left of her family proud. 

It's what her father would have wanted.

That thought wrings a very small, sad smile out of her. She feels her eyes get teary again, but it's different now. It feels like relief, like devotion, commitment. She's going to do this, and she's going to do this for her family. Her ear twitches, she clears her throat.

"Calian, I know you're awake."

She can sense him jump a little bit, startled she noticed him, apparently. Caught, he moves up to sit next to her by the fire. And as she watches him scoot up, and as she turns back a bit to look at the rest of the party as well, she gets the feeling that maybe that family was a little bigger than she had first thought.


End file.
